Dawn of the Morning Star
by Anne Khushrenada
Summary: Lady Une and Treize take a day to themselves and go sailing on Treize's boat. But all is not what it seems, and when Nichol betrays them on Dermail's orders, it's Dorothy and Zechs to the rescue.


Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters belong to   
the wonderfully creative people of Sunrise, Sotsu,   
Bandai, et al. I don't own Treize Khushrenada or the   
others, but I'd sure like to. :)  
  
Author's note: I wrote this on a lark a few months   
ago, and to be honest with you I think it's pure   
crap. I've been kind of sitting on it, hoping I guess   
that I'd be able to clean it up a bit. I can't seem   
to, so I added the last line and called it done. It's   
not great, but it's something.  
  
"Dawn of the Morning Star"  
by Anne Khushrenada  
ladyune@gundamwing.net  
  
* * *  
  
"I," said Lady Une from her place at the bow of   
Treize Khushrenada's personal yacht, the Morning   
Star, "am growing truly tired of this."  
  
"Tired of what, Lady?" Treize asked, as he raised a   
wineglass to the sunlight and examined its contents.   
He had for several long moments now been studying   
intently Lady Une's silhouette upon the boat's prow.   
She had stood there, rather, Treize thought, like a   
figurehead, since their departure an hour or so   
earlier, and he was irritated to have that lovely   
image shattered when she turned back to face him.  
  
"This- this utter /nonsense/." Une gestured with her   
empty wine glass, scowling, towards the small knot of   
OZ soldiers some distance up the deck. She looked   
significantly less than pleased, both insulted by   
what their presence implied, and annoyed by their   
intrusion into what had been planned as a day of   
private retreat.  
  
"Ah, yes. Them." Treize took a sip of wine, and   
sighed. "I admit they are a nuisance, but, I fear, a   
necessary one."  
  
Une's expression clearly showed her opinion of   
/that/, but she turned from the bow and started back   
towards Treize, who lifted a bottle of red wine from   
the table beside him as she approached.  
  
"Like another?" Treize asked.  
  
"Sir," Une protested, "I'm on duty. So, might I add,   
are you."  
  
Treize shook his head. "We are and we aren't, Lady.   
Have another. It will help you relax."  
  
"I have no reason to relax." She didn't, quite, snap   
at him, but she was very close. Treize simply raised   
one elegant eyebrow, and held his silence.  
  
"Lady Une?" came the voice of Lieutenant Nichol, a   
soldier who served as Une's aid.  
  
Une turned to face Nichol, empty wineglass still in   
hand. "Yes?"  
  
"If I might have a word, Lady...?"  
  
Une nodded slowly. "Excuse me, sir."  
  
Treize nodded in reply, but his eyes had grown dark,   
and he gazed out at the sea, intentionally ignoring   
Nichol as he and Une moved away. Une had the distinct   
impression that Treize did not trust the other man,   
but she could not say why. It was just a feeling,   
really- and if she were to be honest, she would have   
to admit that she distrusted Nichol, as well.  
  
"What is it, Nichol?" Une asked.  
  
"Lady, your faith in Colonel Treize is admirable, but   
should you be out here?"  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"I think it is too exposed here, Lady Une. You could   
be in danger."  
  
"Don't you mean Colonel Treize could be in danger?"   
Une asked.  
  
"No, Lady. My only responsibility is to see to your   
safety-"  
  
"Your only responsibility," Une cut him off, "is to   
honor the oath you took to defend OZ and the things   
it stands for. No one embodies the spirit of those   
things better than Mister Treize, and anyone who   
thinks otherwise is sorely mistaken."  
  
"Colonel Une, I-"  
  
"Was that all, Lieutenant Nichol? His Excellency does   
not seem pleased with me for having ignored him so   
long already. If I've incurred his displeasure for   
nothing more than this..."  
  
"Colonel, you dote on His Excellency too much."  
  
Nichol was not even aware she had drawn back her hand   
until it connected with his face in a sharp, back-  
handed slap. He staggered back into the ship's   
railing, and Une followed him. As she bent forward to   
jerk him none too gently to his feet, she said, "You   
take far too many liberties, Nichol."  
  
While Nichol was still reeling from words and blow   
alike, she rose smoothly to her feet and strode away.   
As she approached Treize Une could not help noticing   
him looking over his shoulder, not at her, but at   
Nichol. As before, his expression was hardly kind.  
  
"Sir," said Une as she drew to a stop beside him. "I   
apologize for the interruption."  
  
"Quite alright," Treize said, his attention returned   
to her and his expression softened once again. He   
refilled his wine glass, and offered the bottle to   
her. "Are you quite certain you wouldn't care for   
another glass?"  
  
"If what I have already seen is an indication of how   
this day will be going, I may find myself in need of   
several," was Une's reply as Treize refilled her   
glass.  
  
Treize laughed softly. "Dear lady, I shudder to think   
what your father would do to me if he knew I'd   
whisked you away on this humble little sailboat of   
mine-" Une laughed at that, but Treize was going on   
"-And, once upon said humble sailboat, I was   
proceeding to get you thoroughly drunk."  
  
Une examined the remaining contents of the wine   
bottle and raised an eyebrow. "If you mean to get me   
drunk, you've a ways to go yet. Sir."  
  
Treize smiled. "My lady, I have all day."  
  
"Assuming, of course," Une said, "that no urgent   
matters demand your attention before this day is   
done."  
  
"I did promise you, did I not, that from sunrise   
today to sunrise tomorrow, my time was yours?   
Absolutely, without question, yours?"  
  
Une nodded slowly. "You did, yes. I don't recall that   
promise including them, however," she added, jerking   
her chin towards Nichol and the other soldiers.  
  
"An unforeseen complication, I'm afraid. Incidentally   
enough, also the only way I could secure Zechs' word   
to mind the store for me today."  
  
"Weren't the Gundams keeping Colonel Zechs rather   
busy?" Une asked.  
  
"They were, yes. But it will be rather hard for their   
pilots to cause us much trouble with their Gundams   
severely damaged. Not quite in pieces, but the next   
best thing."  
  
"Mister Treize!" Une gasped, something between glee   
and rebunk in her words.  
  
"I wish you wouldn't do that. At least, not when we   
are alone."  
  
"We aren't, sir," Une told him.  
  
Treize waved that aside. "At any rate, Zechs' battle   
group caught up with the Gundams shortly before we   
left, and the new prototype suits based off of the   
Tallgeese design have granted us a superior   
advantage."  
  
/Modesty doesn't suit him,/ Une thought. /To hear him   
speak you would never know that he himself designed   
those suits./  
  
"The pilots?" she asked.  
  
"They are harder to damage than their Gundams, but   
even so, they aren't going to go away. We will have   
many more opportunities to face them in battle."  
  
"Lady Une!" one of the soldiers called.  
  
With a sigh Une set her glass down. "Yes?" she asked,   
perhaps just a bit dangerously, as she started   
towards the soldier. She did not recall his name, but   
knew he was one of Nichol's subordinates.   
  
"Ma'am, with your permission...?"  
  
"Yes, what is it?"  
  
"The communications tech just received a message for   
Colonel Treize. It's from Duke Dermail's   
granddaughter, Dorothy Catalonia. She says she's run   
into some trouble, and..."  
  
Une had to fight very hard to keep her face   
expressionless. Dorothy had, for some reason, seemed   
rather keenly interested in the details of their day   
trip upon the Star, and now Une thought she knew why.   
/That clever child,/ she thought. "Sir?" she called   
out to Treize.  
  
"Yes, Lady?"  
  
"It seems your cousin, Miss Dorothy, has had another   
of her little adventures."  
  
Treize's sigh was perfectly feigned; even Une   
suspected for a moment or two that he truly meant the   
sense of sheer exasperation that was behind it. "I do   
adore that child, but there are days... Well. What   
has she done?" The unspoken 'this time' was heard by   
all present as clearly as if it had been said aloud.  
  
Une looked expectantly at the soldiers. "Well? Answer   
him, gentlemen."  
  
"She, ah... That is, Miss Dorothy has challenged the   
son of a Romafeller Foundation member to a duel.   
Apparently she had the boy confused with one of those   
Gundam pilots..."  
  
Treize buried his head in his hands for a moment. /A   
nice touch, that,/ Une thought. Then he looked up,   
gesturing the soldiers forward. "Gentlemen, I know my   
dear friend Colonel Zechs ordered you to see to my   
safety today, and I cannot tell you how much I   
appreciate your efforts in that regard. However.   
Dorothy is a very dear, if occasionally overzealous,   
relation, and I would hate to see any harm befall   
her. This duel, if allowed to proceed, would   
certainly embarrass my uncle, Duke Dermail, who as   
you know heads the Romafeller Foundation."  
  
To Une, what Treize said was nearly as interesting as   
what he didn't. She knew, and the soldiers did not,   
that Treize and Dermail had never quite seen eye to   
eye, and were most likely never going to. The final   
straw that might shatter what remained of their   
relationship had come when Dermail's pet engineer, an   
odious and arrogant man called Tubarov, had begun   
work on something he termed 'Mobile Dolls'. Dermail   
could not seem to say enough good things about   
Tubarov's Mobile Dolls, and while Une had yet to make   
up her mind about the things- for she trusted the   
engineer not at all, and she tended to tune out   
Tubarov's words in favor of concentrating on watching   
her back, and Treize's as well, while in his presence   
-but Treize was vehemently opposed to the project.  
  
The soldiers' commander was nodding slowly. "It   
wouldn't look very good, would it, sir?" he asked.  
  
"No. It would not," Treize told him. "Please,   
gentlemen, see to my dear cousin. Oh yes, one more   
thing. Dorothy is a very proud child- she takes pride   
in her abilities and her accomplishments, and well   
she should."  
  
"There may be a way to diffuse this situation while   
allowing Miss Dorothy to save face," the soldier   
said.  
  
"I see we understand each other," Treize said.  
  
"Yes, sir. But, sir- What about you? With all of us   
gone to see to Miss Dorothy-"   
  
"*I* will see to His Excellency's safety," Lady Une   
said. "Unless of course you don't believe me capable   
of that?"   
  
"Lady Une, with all due respect-" The soldier made   
the mistake of meeting Une's gaze then, and he   
flinched as if ducking a blow. Lady Une took her   
duties very seriously indeed, and few were those who   
would question her ability to discharge them. Though,   
one must admit, if anyone at all were going to   
question such things, Nichol and his subordinates   
would most certainly be among them.  
  
"No, of course not, ma'am," the soldier corrected   
himself quickly.  
  
Une nodded. "Go then, quickly."  
  
The soldiers filed into the yacht's dinghy and   
quickly made for shore. Of them all, only Nichol   
glanced back, but one of the other spoke sharply to   
him, and his attention returned to where it belonged.  
  
Treize raised his glass in mute toast as he watched   
them depart. "To peace and quiet," he said then to   
Une, raising his glass to her.  
  
"To peace and quiet," she agreed as their glasses   
touched in a soft crystal chime. "And to privacy-   
possibly the most priceless commodity in existence   
these days."  
  
"I will certainly drink to that," Treize said. He   
drained his glass and set it aside. "Do you suppose   
they're out of sight yet?"  
  
"Perhaps not," Une said, "but I don't think they'll   
be looking back. They seem in a bit of a hurry."  
  
"Yes," Treize agreed, "they certainly do. Remind me   
please, to do something nice for Dorothy. That was   
quite clever of her."  
  
Une keyed something into the electronic notepad she   
carried. "I'll make a note of that, sir."  
  
Treize took the notepad from her and made as if to   
toss it into the ocean. "Perhaps flowers?" he asked.   
"No, that certainly won't do. Something sharp... I   
have just the thing. Tell me, Lady, do you think she   
would like a pair of antique throwing knives?"  
  
"She's admired those for years."  
  
"Yes, I know. They were Mother's. Too small for my   
hands, and you stubbornly cling to that inelegant   
firearm of yours..."  
  
"Inelegant it may be, but it has also proven   
necessary several times." Une's expression softened.   
"Besides, I do own, as you know, a perfectly elegant   
weapon." She rested a hand against the hilt of the   
rapier she wore at her side. Like that of many   
higher-ranking officers of OZ, Une's rapier was far   
from merely ceremonial, and if she were not as   
skilled in its use as Treize, no one was about to   
make an issue of that, for she was skilled enough.  
  
"Touché, my love." Treize smiled. "Very well then.   
Mother's throwing daggers to Dorothy with my thanks."  
  
"With /our/ thanks," Une corrected, as she held out a   
hand for her notepad. "I believe that's mine?"  
  
Treize shook his head in mock despair. "Wherever did   
you acquire such atrocious manners, my dear?"  
  
"Perhaps it's the company I am keeping these days."  
  
Treize clutched at his heart. "You wound me, Lady.   
Ask nicely, now..."  
  
"Please, may I have my notepad back?" Une asked.  
  
He smiled mischievously. "Come and take it from me,   
if you want it so very badly."  
  
She approached him cautiously, but not cautiously   
enough, as he caught her up in his arms and drew her   
to him. "Ah, Lady, how I have missed you."  
  
"And I you, sir," she replied quietly. Her voice,   
normally so very steady when she was in uniform,   
trembled now, and Treize could nearly see her, poised   
on the brink, on the line which at times seemed to   
separate one personality from the other.  
  
Treize brought his lips to hers and kissed her   
soundly. "No more of that, understand?"  
  
"Yes." Une's voice trembled more as she spoke, and   
Treize smoothed back her hair from her face.  
  
"Make your notes later, dear one," he said.  
  
She nodded silently, and, quite suddenly, the drawn   
and tense expression which marked her military   
persona, faded away. She had, in more ways than one,   
stepped from one psyche to another.   
  
She sighed, then rested her head against his   
shoulder. "When will this end?" she asked quietly.   
"Some days I despair of ever seeing the end of this."  
  
"I, too," Treize agreed, and, before she could grow   
more melancholy, he kissed her again. "The trick, I   
think, is to live from one day to the next. Would you   
do that for me?"  
  
"I would die for you," Une replied, her hands upon   
his shoulders trembling, but her features strong,   
resolved. It was the soft resolve of Une's kinder   
self, rather than the unyielding strength of her   
warrior aspect, but from long experience Treize knew   
that this Lady Une could be no less stubborn than her   
counterpart. She would set her mind to something, and   
weather she slowly chipped away at anyone and   
anything who blocked her path, or simply blasted her   
way right through them, more often than not she   
reached her goal.  
  
There was very little Treize would deny her. But   
this, he would not allow.  
  
"No, Lady," Treize said.  
  
"Treize, I-"  
  
"So many have died for me already- such was the   
loyalty I strove to inspire, but I never thought of   
the pain success would bring me. I could not bear it,   
Lady, if you joined their numbers. I beg of you,   
please."  
  
She stroked his cheek gently. "I'll promise you this.   
I won't go out of my way seeking Death, but if he   
comes to me, if I must die, then I will die for   
something, for something which I believe in."  
  
/Who is this woman?/ he asked himself silently. /She   
is neither the Lady Une I know as a soldier, nor the   
Lady I know to be infinitely kind./ "And you believe   
in me, do you?" Treize asked.  
  
"So help me, I believe in little else."  
  
Treize gently took from her her glasses and laid them   
aside upon the table. She did not resist this, as she   
once might have done. Though many thought they   
understood why Lady Une wore the glasses, only Treize   
truly did, and only he could coax her into removing   
them- or into letting him take them from her.  
  
"I know," Treize said.   
  
And for a time thereafter, neither of them spoke.  
  
* * *  
  
Dorothy Catalonia smiled, whipping the cloth once   
more across the flat of her fencing foil. "Perfect,"   
she said. "Now all I have to do is find some fool to   
challenge before cousin Treize's toy soldiers get   
here."  
  
A messenger appeared at her door, a small box in his   
hands. "Miss Dorothy?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"From His Excellency, Treize Khushrenada, miss."  
  
Dorothy grinned and took the box. "What have we here-   
Oh! Knives!" Her smile grew chilling, and the   
messenger hastened to withdraw. Dorothy hardly seemed   
to notice. "Not ordinary knives either," she mused,   
stroking the hilt of one. "Great-Aunt Millicent's   
throwing knives. Did my little ruse please you,   
cousin? Good. Maybe I'll get to fight someone today,   
with these..."  
  
* * *  
  
Nichol and the others came ashore, and tugged the   
dinghy up onto the beach after then. Nichol himself   
led them quickly up towards the road, but another   
soldier looked back at the dinghy.  
  
"Shouldn't we leave someone to guard the boat?"  
  
"You heard Colonel Treize's orders- we need to   
prevent Dermail's granddaughter from starting a war   
with Romafeller. That's all we were told to do, and   
that's all we're /going/ to do."  
  
"What about Lady Une, then?" another asked.  
  
"/I/ will deal with Lady Une," Nichol said.  
  
The two others exchanged looks with their companions,   
who shrugged as one. Uncertain what else to do, and   
knowing that their mission was indeed of the essence,   
they followed after Nichol.  
  
* * *  
  
Dorothy had cornered a thin, dark-haired boy who   
vaguely resembled Heero Yuy, and she wore a cruel   
smile as she brandished her fencing foil at him once   
again.  
  
"You have no idea who I am, do you?" the boy asked,   
barely managing to block her strike.  
  
"Don't be stupid," snapped Dorothy. "I know exactly   
who you are. Your name is Heero Yuy, and I'm going to   
kill you."  
  
"Don't you realize how much trouble you'll be in?"  
  
Dorothy laughed. "Am I supposed to care? By the time   
anyone realizes what's happened, you'll be dead. They   
will applaud me for killing a Gundam pilot."  
  
"I'm not a Gundam pilot!" the boy protested, lunging   
at her.  
  
Dorothy sighed. "Amateur," she muttered as she easily   
sidestepped him. She raised her foil, and- the door   
at the end of the hall swung open, a half-dozen armed   
men clattering through it. In their lead was a   
weasel-faced man called Nichol. And just behind him   
was Duke Dermail, Dorothy's grandfather.  
  
"Just as I told you, sir," Nichol said, gesturing   
towards Dorothy and the boy.  
  
"Dorothy, what is the meaning of this?" Dermail   
asked.  
  
"Grandfather, this boy is Heero Yuy."  
  
Dermail stepped closer, to examine his   
granddaughter's opponent. "No," he said, "I don't   
think so. He is Lewis Ishisaka- his father is a high-  
ranked member of the Foundation."  
  
Dorothy sighed. "I really thought he was-"  
  
"Never mind that," Dermail said. "Nichol, for the   
last time, what are you doing here? I sent you to   
keep an eye on Treize."  
  
"What?" said Dorothy. "I thought Zechs-"  
  
"Dorothy," said Dermail, "please take yourself   
elsewhere. Now."  
  
Dorothy, scowling at Nichol behind her grandfather's   
back, nodded. "Yes, grandfather." She turned away,   
walking quickly. But Dermail spoke again before she   
was out of earshot, and what Dorothy heard made her   
stop short.  
  
"No matter, no matter," Dermail was saying to Nichol.   
"Perhaps it's for the best. He has been loyal- to a   
point, of course. Loyal and dedicated, but..."  
  
"Excuse me, sir," said another of the soldiers, "but   
who are you referring to?"  
  
"Why, Colonel Treize, of course."  
  
Dorothy's head snapped around, and cold blue eyes   
bored into Duke Dermail, Nichol, and the others.   
"Grandfather," Dorothy said as she strode towards   
them, sword swinging at her side, "/Where/ is cousin   
Treize?"  
  
"Never mind that, Dorothy dear," Dermail said   
quickly. "Don't trouble yourself-"  
  
Dorothy flicked her wrist, and one of her new knives   
slid smoothly from its sheath into her hand. "I   
said," she repeated, her voice dangerously quiet,   
"where is he?"  
  
"He's taken his yacht out for a bit of a cruise. I   
believe Lady Une is with him."  
  
"And?" said Dorothy, who knew these facts already,   
and knew as well that there was far more to the   
story.  
  
"And it will be quite a shame to loose them both. I   
believe there's going to be a storm."  
  
"Why?" Dorothy demanded. For her, there was no   
greater existence than to fight, and she had always   
admired Treize because he was a warrior. Now it   
seemed her grandfather was going to have him killed-   
or, worse, simply sit back and watch him die -because   
he had fulfilled his duties all too well.  
  
"I know now where his loyalties lie," Dermail said.  
  
"It's Grace, isn't it?" Dorothy asked quietly. For   
days now the weather satellites had been tracking   
Grace, a small but powerful hurricane, since   
downgraded to a tropical storm but still quite   
dangerous.  
  
"She is believed to be headed this direction, yes-   
Where are you going?" Dermail asked, for Dorothy had   
turned away again, dashing for the door this time.  
  
"Home," Dorothy lied with a chilling smile. "I'll   
have the servants put up the storm shutters. Good   
day, grandfather."  
  
* * *  
  
Halfway up the drive, Dorothy spun on her heel, and   
found, as she suspected, one of Nichol's soldiers   
trailing her.  
  
"Hello," Dorothy said. She stepped forward and   
grabbed hold of the soldier by his uniform collar.   
"Tell me something; What did you and your friends do   
to the Morning Star?"  
  
"I- I'm sorry, Miss Dorothy?"  
  
"What. Did. You. Do. To. Treize's. Ship." Dorothy   
said, biting off each word.  
  
"It was Nichol who did most of it, miss- I'm not sure   
what, really. He cut a few ropes here and there, and   
then did something to the sail..."  
  
The string of curses Dorothy gave voice to would have   
shocked even some of the roughest military types she   
knew. She tossed the soldier aside and raced for the   
door.  
  
* * *  
  
Lady Une gazed out over the Morning Star's rail at   
the increasingly choppy seas, then glanced skyward,   
noting dark clouds rolling quickly in. Salt spray and   
wind catching in her hair, she turned back towards   
Treize. "I'm afraid it's getting worse," she   
reported, carefully making her way across the deck   
towards him.  
  
"I thought as much," Treize replied, reaching out to   
catch hold of her elbow before she had a chance to   
stumble. "Let's go below, shall we? I would like to   
have a look at the charts, and we'd be out of this   
wind, at least."  
  
Une nodded, allowing him to lead her below the ship's   
deck. The light there was dim, growing darker as the   
sky above did, and Une lit a lantern, hanging it   
above the chart table. This was not her first such   
voyage with Treize, and while many considered the   
ways of antique sailing to be rather outdated, Treize   
was a traditionalist, and had always loved to set   
sail this way, no differently, he said, than any   
other man would have several hundred years ago.  
  
"Damn," said Treize as he bent over his maps. "I was   
afraid of this. The wind's taken us rather far off-  
course-"  
  
"-straight into the eye of the storm, no doubt," Une   
finished for him.  
  
"Close enough," Treize replied. "Well. It's hardly   
the first rough sea this old girl's weathered."  
  
Une smiled, but reached out to key the radio to 'on'.   
It was Treize's one concession to more modern   
technology, and not for the first time was Une glad   
of its presence upon the Star. "-Tropical Storm Grace   
is picking up speed, winds forty knots per hour and   
increasing-" Une skipped quickly to the next channel,   
finding she didn't want to know how much worse it was   
going to get. The exact strength of Grace hardly   
mattered, anyway; it would be bad enough, Une knew   
that.  
  
"I wonder-" she began, but never finished.  
  
"-Say again, Morning Star, do you read?"  
  
"That's Dorothy," Treize said to Une, before turning   
to the radio. "This is Morning Star, we read you."  
  
"Are you alright?" Dorothy asked. Though she tried   
very hard to conceal it, both Treize and Une could   
hear the concern in her voice.  
  
"Yes. So far, at least. Although we're a little   
closer to this storm than I would like."  
  
Dorothy's sigh carried quite a bit of static along   
with it. "Then you haven't seen yet."  
  
"Seen what, exactly?" Une asked.  
  
"You plotted a course to avoid the storm, didn't   
you?" Dorothy asked.  
  
"Yes, of course," Treize said.  
  
"And you just- happened to drift into Grace's path?"  
  
"What are you implying?" Une asked. She paused. "Who   
would /dare/-?"  
  
"Dermail," Treize said. "Am I right, cousin?"  
  
"He nearly admitted as much to me," Dorothy replied.   
"I- I'm sorry."  
  
"No," Treize told her. "You've no need to be sorry."   
Wordlessly, he reached for Lady Une's hand, which met   
his halfway, and gripped it tightly. "How badly   
damaged do they believe the Star is?"  
  
"Nichol's man said they'd cut several ropes, and   
sabotaged the sail one way or another..." Dorothy's   
voice trailed off. "And it's entirely my fault, for   
suggesting this trip, and helping you get rid of   
Nichol and his men-"  
  
"No, Dorothy," Une said. "This trip was something   
both Treize and I wanted very much. We'd have gone   
even had you not suggested it. As for the other- If   
there is a single thing worse than discovering the   
sail shredded in the midst of a tropical storm, it's   
having the same thing happen while the half-dozen   
fools who caused the mess in the first place are   
still on board." She paused. "And I thought they were   
bad enough when all they did was get in my way. Now   
the fools are trying to kill us, as well."  
  
"And may very well have succeeded," said Dorothy.  
  
"I think not," Treize told her. "The Star has a few   
tricks up her sleeve yet, and I dislike the idea of   
simply giving in and dying to please Dermail. We are   
not done and finished with just yet."  
  
"Agreed," Une said.  
  
"Can I do anything for you here?" Dorothy asked them.  
  
Treize thought a moment, then said, "Yes. If you can,   
contact Zechs for me. The Star can probably weather   
the storm if it doesn't get much worse, but I'm   
fairly certain we won't be able to sail her back to   
port with all the damage she'll have sustained."   
There was more than a slight catch in Treize's voice,   
and no wonder. The Star was more than a simple ship   
to him, she had a grace and a spirit about her, as   
well as the familiarity of an old friend. Une   
understood this; she loved the boat as well.  
  
"Alright," said Dorothy. "I'll tell him. After the   
storm's passed, if you need us, we'll send someone to   
help." She paused, as if in thought. "And if there   
were some way to get the Star back to shore- Of   
course! We'll tow her. Then you can see to the   
repairs once you're back home."  
  
Treize nodded approvingly, although Dorothy could not   
see him. "Good thinking. Yes, do that. Best ask Zechs   
to send someone as soon as the storm's passed, no   
matter what. If we end up needing rescue, I want to   
know that help's coming, as opposed to wondering   
about it."  
  
"I'll get ahold of Zechs right away," Dorothy said.   
"Good luck, cousin Treize, Lady Une."  
  
"Thank you, Dorothy," Une said.  
  
And: "We may very well need it," Treize said once   
Dorothy had signed off.  
  
* * *  
  
Dorothy slammed a fist into the polished oak desktop,   
swearing under her breath as she activated her comm   
screen and attempted to place a call.  
  
"Yes?" snapped the voice of Duke Dermail's personal   
assistant, a minor noble of some form or other.  
  
Dorothy turned a winning smile upon him. "My Lord, I   
need to speak to my grandfather."  
  
The man's expression softened slightly. Many of the   
Foundation's members considered Dorothy something of   
a pet- well-trained, loyal, and hardly worth giving a   
second thought to. It was an attitude she did little   
to discourage, although she found it annoying that   
they had no more faith in her than that.  
  
"I'll see if he's available, Miss Dorothy."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
A moment later Dermail's face replaced the Romafeller   
coat of arms upon the screen. Upon seeing her, the   
old duke sighed. "What is it, Dorothy? I'm quite busy   
here..."  
  
"I wanted to apologize for what I said earlier,"   
Dorothy forced herself to say, digging the   
fingernails of one hand into the palm of the other,   
out of the screen's visual pickup. "I know that you   
have your reasons for the things that you do."  
  
"I am glad you understand it, Dorothy," Dermail said.   
"Now if you will pardon me?"  
  
"Of course," said Dorothy, and closed down the   
screen. "Now I know why there are so few old   
warriors," she said. "Age makes them weak, foolish.   
And the only real enemies they might have, they   
destroy- not even in honest battle! How can I respect   
a man who doesn't fight?"  
  
Shaking her head slightly, Dorothy rose from the desk   
and headed quickly for the door. Her words may or may   
not have defused Dermail as a threat to her for the   
near future, but she'd done what she could about   
that. And now it was time to fight a different   
battle.  
  
* * *  
  
Treize caught the Star's rail with one hand, and Lady   
Une's arm with the other, as another wave swelled   
beneath them. Une shivered as Treize tossed his rain   
slicker over her shoulders.  
  
"Sir, I-" Une began.  
  
"Lady, I fear we have bigger problems." Treize   
gestured upward, at what remained of the Morning   
Star's main sail. His eyes narrowed as they followed   
the jagged tear in the white canvas.  
  
Une nodded, drawing away from him long enough to   
stuff her arms into the raincoat's sleeves. This   
done, she approached the mast and began to climb it.  
  
"Please, dear Lady, don't-"  
  
"I'll be down momentarily," Une promised, examining   
the tear- no, she realized quickly, the cut; Dorothy   
had been right -in the canvas of the sail.  
  
Treize nodded, grasping the rail so hard that his   
knuckles turned absolutely white. Certainly one of   
them needed to investigate the sail up close, to see   
if it could be repaired, if nothing else. But he had   
never meant for Une to risk herself by making that   
examination- Morning Star was his ship; Treize should   
have taken the risks to determine how badly damaged   
she was.  
  
Une climbed carefully down the rain-slicked mast,   
nearly stumbling as her foot touched the deck again.   
The wind picked up significantly, and Treize could   
only see her lips moving in what appeared to be a   
rather extensive series of oaths and curses.  
  
/Where,/ he wondered fleetingly, /did she learn such   
crude language?/  
  
"Lady," he said once she was close enough to hear   
him, "you should have allowed me to-"  
  
But Une shook her head. "It hardly matters which one   
of us climbed up there, because one of us had to. And   
it's done, and..." She sighed.  
  
"Tell me," Treize insisted.  
  
"Let's go below, first, before you catch your death   
of cold."  
  
"Seems the least of my worries," he said. Then,   
"Still taking care of me, my dear?"  
  
"God knows somebody has to. Sir. Come on."  
  
More than slightly amused, he followed her down the   
polished hardwood steps. Une led the way past the   
chart room to Treize's cabin. Treize, still a step or   
two behind her, raised an eyebrow but held his   
silence, as Une pulled the hatch open with what might   
perhaps have been a bit more force than was strictly   
necessary. Shrugging out of her raincoat, she tossed   
it aside and moved about the room, lighting lamps and   
candles. Treize waited until she could find nothing   
else to do, before approaching her slowly, and taking   
her hands.  
  
"My dear lady," he said softly, "I am going to learn   
the truth sooner or later. Tell me what you have   
seen, I beg of you."  
  
Carefully studying the deck at her feet, she replied,   
"The sails are gone. Whoever sabotaged them knew what   
he was doing. There's no way they can be repaired,   
not here, and not back on land. They'll need to be   
replaced."  
  
Treize nodded. "I suspected as much. And?"  
  
"I thought I saw lights, a few miles off."  
  
"Another ship?"  
  
Unhappily, she nodded. "If I were to venture a guess,   
I'd call it an OZ carrier."  
  
"What's she doing?" Treize asked, though he was quite   
sure he would not like the answer.  
  
"Nothing, and that's what worries me."  
  
"So," Treize said, leading Une towards the room's   
only chair and seating her upon it. "Romafeller's toy   
soldiers have come to watch me die. Well. They're   
going to find I am not so easy to be gotten rid of."  
  
He tried to keep his tone light, but inwardly, Treize   
was worried. The carrier could easily wait out the   
storm, suffering no ill effects at all, and then, if   
necessary, destroy whatever remained of the Star   
after the storm had passed. That they came no closer   
suggested a willingness to let the storm do their   
work for them, which Treize found typical of   
Romafeller's philosophy these days. They thought him   
enough of a potential threat to make this token   
effort to destroy him, but nothing more.  
  
"Sir," Une said quietly.  
  
"I thought I had asked you not to do that."  
  
"You did, yes. But, Treize..."  
  
He shook his head. "No, Lady. They may kill me, but   
they will not do it this easily. It will take my dear   
uncle far more effort than this to see the last of   
me."  
  
"And, should we survive this, you may tell him so to   
his face," Une replied. "But in the end we may both   
be as dead as if Dermail pulled the trigger himself."  
  
"As I said, Lady, I think not."  
  
"Just what, if I might ask, makes you so very sure of   
that?" she asked.  
  
And he told her.  
  
* * *  
  
Dorothy raised her hand, pounding upon the door once   
again. "Zechs!" she yelled at the top of her lungs,   
to be heard over the heavy rain and wind that dashed   
against the side of the house. Water running off the   
roof spilled down upon Dorothy's hair, but she hardly   
noticed it. "Damn you, Zechs Merquise, open up!"  
  
At last the door swung inward, and Zechs looked out   
at her. "Oh, it's you." The door started to close,   
but Dorothy's hand shot out, catching it and shoving   
it back. "I haven't got time for this-"  
  
"Neither do I," Dorothy snapped. "You did my cousin a   
favor today, and now I need you to do him another   
one."  
  
Zechs shook his head. "I've done nearly everything I   
can for Treize, Dorothy. More than I should have."  
  
"Coward," spat Dorothy. "I don't know why he holds   
you in such high regard- the great Milliardo   
Peacecraft? Where's he gotten off to, I wonder?"  
  
Zechs snarled from behind his mask. "You can thank   
your cousin's chivalry for the fact that I haven't   
laid a hand on you yet. But I wish you were a boy,"   
he muttered.  
  
"You and my grandfather and everyone else," Dorothy   
shot back before she thought better of it. "But that   
doesn't /matter/, don't you get it? You say Treize is   
your friend- well, is he, or isn't he?"  
  
"Maybe," Zechs said at last, "you had better start   
again from the beginning. Keep the side commentary to   
a minimum, please..."  
  
"You know Treize and Lady Une took the Morning Star   
out this morning," Dorothy said.  
  
Zechs nodded. "I was 'minding the store', as Treize   
put it. Unfortunately, I had to force a squad of OZ   
soldiers on him, courtesy of Duke Dermail."  
  
"Did you know Lt. Nichol was one of those soldiers?"   
Dorothy asked.  
  
"No. I didn't. But it doesn't surprise me- Dermail   
hand-picked those men. To see to Treize's protection,   
or so he said."  
  
Dorothy scoffed. "Even when we were children, you   
never struck me as stupid. He sent them to keep an   
eye on Treize- and more."  
  
"Go on," Zechs said, his former irritation fading   
away, replaced with a militaristic calm- and a deeply   
hidden concern for his long-time friend.  
  
"I knew Treize and Lady Une wanted some time to   
themselves," Dorothy said, "so I staged a little   
'incident'."  
  
Zechs smiled slightly then. "Devious child."  
  
"At least I have a talent," Dorothy replied. "Anyway,   
I challenged some Romafeller twit to a duel- a twit,   
might I add, who vaguely resembles Heero Yuy. Then,   
when I realized my error, I commed Mister Treize for   
help." Dorothy smiled. "He sent Nichol and his men to   
defuse the situation."  
  
Zechs nodded. /VERY clever girl,/ he thought. /But   
she certainly doesn't need to hear that from me./   
"Alright. And?"  
  
"That should have been the end of it, but before they   
left for shore, they- Zechs, they sabotaged the   
Star." Zechs swore softly, but she was going on.   
"They're going to drift into the eye of this storm,   
if they haven't done so already."  
  
"I would like to trust you, Dorothy. We were children   
together with Treize, and I have good memories of   
those years."  
  
"We haven't got time for this!" Dorothy exclaimed.   
"You don't have to trust me, just listen to what I'm   
telling you. Grandfather has decided Treize poses too   
much of a threat to be allowed to live."  
  
"That's insane," Zechs said in reply. "Treize is..."   
He shook his head. "Treize would never betray   
Dermail." /Not without telling him of his intentions   
first, at any rate... He would consider it the only   
honorable thing to do. One of these days Treize's   
honor is going to get him killed. I wonder if that   
day is today. /Did/ he say something to Dermail?/  
  
"He fights for his ideals of war, not for any   
organization, not even Romafeller," Dorothy replied.   
"Grandfather's just realized this, and he thinks it   
makes Treize a danger to him."  
  
"Treize is only a danger to those stupid enough to   
get in his way."  
  
/Like Grandfather,/ she thought. /Which is my point./  
  
Dorothy simply looked at him, stubbornly refusing to   
bend or give so much as an inch. "You say he is your   
friend. Prove it." /Help me save him, damn you, or we   
are going to loose him. I can't do it without you,   
Zechs, but I'll die before I say that to you./  
  
"What was their last known location?" Zechs asked,   
and Dorothy knew she had him. /Took you long enough,   
/old friend/, Zechs.../  
  
"I'd need a chart to show you. But they were heading   
east from the port, and you know the storm's coming   
from the west-"  
  
"Someone turned Star into the storm, then cut her   
sails," Zechs said.  
  
*Bingo,* Dorothy thought. "Yes."  
  
"I'm sorry my reception to you was so unkind," Zechs   
told her. /But really, it is better if you don't care   
for me anymore, Dorothy. Your feelings for me are as   
dangerous as your feelings for Treize./  
  
"It's alright," Dorothy said. "I'm sort of used to   
it. But you're the only person I could think of who   
could help-"  
  
"I may not be able to do anything at all, but you did   
the right thing in coming to me." He gestured towards   
the curb, where she'd parked her car. "Come on.   
You're driving."  
  
Dorothy drove with one foot firmly on the gas, and   
one hand tapping the horn every once in a while,   
though the streets were nearly deserted.  
  
"Is that really necessary?" Zechs asked.  
  
Dorothy chose to ignore his question, having one of   
her own. "Where are we going?"  
  
"To see a man who owes me a favor. Turn here."  
  
As she turned in the direction Zechs pointed, Dorothy   
glanced at him quickly. "That's not enough of an   
answer. I'm putting my cousin's fate in your hands,   
and in the hands of this friend of yours."  
  
"You're just going to have to trust me, Dorothy,"   
Zechs said. "You used to do that, remember?"  
  
"I used to be five, too," Dorothy countered. "A lot's   
changed since then."  
  
"But some things haven't. We're still trailing after   
Treize, aren't we?"  
  
"This is more serious than those stupid games we   
played when we were kids," Dorothy replied.  
  
"Yes," Zechs agreed, "it is."  
  
* * *  
  
"Absolutely not!" Dorothy said as they approached a   
door, unremarkable save for the name "Tubarov"   
labeled beside its buzzer. "You have /got/ to be   
kidding me."  
  
"No," Zechs said as he tapped the buzzer, "I'm not."  
  
"Why not just kill Mister Treize yourself and have   
done with it?" Dorothy muttered. "I thought you were   
his friend..."  
  
"I am," Zechs said, leaning on the buzzer now without   
letting up. "Desperate times, Dorothy."  
  
"Obviously," Dorothy replied.  
  
"What?" snapped Tubarov, opening the door before   
Zechs could answer Dorothy, if he was of a mind to.  
  
"You owe me," Zechs said flatly. "I saved your ass   
when I shouldn't have done it, and now you're going   
to return the favor."  
  
"Or?" Tubarov said.  
  
"Or Dermail hears the full story. Right here, right   
now."  
  
Tubarov's glare subsided, slightly. "You'd better   
come in, then," he growled. "Did anyone see you   
coming?"  
  
"We don't have time for this," Dorothy snapped, her   
new knives appearing seemingly out of nowhere.   
"Zechs, what in the hell can this- this creature do   
for us?"  
  
"What do you want?" Tubarov snarled. "I'm very busy-"  
  
"Get /on/ with it," Dorothy told Zechs.  
  
Zechs turned to face Tubarov. "You're going to give   
Dorothy control of the Cancer Mobile Dolls you have   
in this area."  
  
"I am not!"  
  
"Yes, you are. Right now."  
  
Dorothy, understanding now what Zechs had in mind,   
smiled dangerously and nodded. "Yes, Mister Tubarov.   
Right now."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Show me the controls," Dorothy said.  
  
Tubarov glared at her again, but jerked his chin   
towards a console. "There. If she doesn't know how to   
work it," he added to Zechs, "it's not my problem."  
  
"I'll manage," said Dorothy, striding quickly towards   
the console. She scanned its controls and sighed.   
"Mobile Dolls," she muttered as she worked. "Stupid   
little toys... Zechs- how many?"  
  
"How many can you move at once?" was Zechs' reply.  
  
"Right," said Dorothy.  
  
"What the hell are you up to, Zechs?" Tubarov asked.  
  
"Let's just say that your employer, Dorothy's   
grandfather, decided he didn't want to play fair with   
a friend of mine."  
  
"Treize Khushrenada," Tubarov said flatly. "And his   
shadow, Lady Une, of course."  
  
"Watch your tongue," snapped Dorothy, who had a great   
deal of respect for Lady Une. "Or I'll relieve you of   
it."   
  
"That's right," Zechs replied. "And thanks to you,   
we're going to save him, Tubarov. Dorothy?" he called   
over his shoulder.  
  
"Got it," Dorothy replied. "He's got thirty Cancers   
in the area, plus a couple Tauruses."  
  
"Good," Zechs told her. "Send them all, and do it   
now."  
  
Dorothy, activating the Mobile Dolls, didn't answer.   
She scowled at the readout screen then, and snarled   
at Tubarov, "What the hell did you do to your   
Tauruses?"  
  
"Design improvements," Zechs scoffed.   
  
"No doubt," Dorothy agreed.  
  
Thirty-plus Mobile Dolls raced out on their most   
unusual mission yet- not to take a life, but to save   
two.  
  
* * *  
  
"Did you hear something?" Lady Une asked Treize.  
  
"No, Lady," he replied.  
  
"I hate this waiting," she said at last. "Waiting to   
die..."  
  
"Don't speak of it, Lady," Treize said, placing a   
finger against her lips.   
  
Une shook her head. "If only we hadn't gone out   
today-"  
  
Treize took hold of her shoulders, forcing her to   
look him in the eyes. "Dermail would only have found   
another way. My uncle is nothing if not persistent.   
How quickly he forgets that I am, also."  
  
"But does it matter?" Une replied. "You can insist   
we'll live until the moment we die, and it changes   
nothing."  
  
Treize whispered, "Do you love me, Lady?"  
  
"You know that I do," she replied.  
  
"Then trust me, Lady, and trust me now. We are not   
finished yet. I don't know how I know that, but I   
do."  
  
Une gasped then, turning fully to face the small   
porthole window. "Mobile Dolls," she said flatly.   
"That's it, then."  
  
Instinctively Treize reached for her and drew her   
close. "Forgive me, Lady...I was wrong."  
  
As she heard the Mobile Dolls' lasers fire, Une   
braced herself- and a cheer exploded from her as   
those lasers struck the OZ carrier, as if to warn it   
off from interfering.  
  
"YES!"  
  
The radio crackled on the table beside them. "Morning   
Star, Morning Star, do you read?"  
  
"It's too damned late," said a voice in the   
background. "Damn you, Grandfather..."  
  
"Dorothy?" Treize said, recognizing the voices at   
last. "And Zechs?"  
  
He and Une watched in amazement as the Mobile Dolls   
took hold of the Star and lifted her out of the   
waves. The deck rose beneath them, and Treize smiled.  
  
"I didn't know they'd bothered with the sea Mobile   
Dolls," he said.  
  
"Morning Star, come in! I swear to God, Tubarov, if   
this didn't work-"  
  
Une snatched up the radio's microphone. "This is   
Morning Star. Hello, Dorothy, Zechs. And Mister   
Tubarov, I presume?"  
  
"It's good to hear your voice, Lady Une," Dorothy   
said. There was a sound of scuffling, then an   
unmistakable "Ow. Damn you, girl!" from Tubarov.  
  
Une smiled. "Likewise, Dorothy."  
  
"Is Treize there?" Dorothy asked.  
  
"Where else might I go, dear cousin?" Treize asked.  
  
"Yes," Une said, "he's-"  
  
At that moment, back on shore, Tubarov leapt at   
Dorothy and the Mobile Doll controls. He lunged for   
the keypad, fingers striking whatever buttons they   
could reach- and the Tauruses dropped Morning Star   
like a stone. The Cancers let her go to drift upon   
the waves, and a huge swell swept over the ship,   
tossing her perilously to one side.  
  
Une could only watch with horror as Treize took a   
step towards the radio, as he stumbled, and as the   
wave tossed him to the deck.  
  
"No!" she cried out, dropping to her knees beside   
him.   
  
"/Damn/ you, Tubarov!" Dorothy exclaimed. "Morning   
Star- Report!"  
  
Une fumbled for the microphone. "Treize is hurt," she   
said dully. His eyelids fluttered, and when Une   
brushed back a lock of his hair, her hands came away   
bloody. "Oh, God."  
  
* * *  
  
Zechs pushed Dorothy roughly towards Tubarov. "Deal   
with that," he said flatly, before turning to the   
radio. "Lady Une?"  
  
"Yes?" came Une's trembling voice. "Oh, God, he's   
bleeding..."  
  
"How bad?" Zechs asked.  
  
"Not- not too bad, I don't think. His forehead's   
split, but he's lost consciousness, that's what   
worries me."  
  
Dorothy mouthed the words "What's wrong with her?" as   
she wrestled Tubarov's arms behind his back.  
  
In reply, Zechs pantomimed pushing a pair of glasses   
up on his nose.  
  
"Oh. Shit." Dorothy whispered.  
  
"Alright," Zechs said, speaking far more calmly than   
he felt. "I've got the Mobile Dolls back in position,   
and we'll bring the Star to shore as quickly as we   
can. Until then, you've got to take care of Treize."  
  
* * *  
  
Something in Une's expression grew harder, the angles   
of her face seemed suddenly sharper. "I understand,"   
she said in commanding tones over the radio. "Have a   
medical team standing by."  
  
"Yes, Colonel," Zechs' voice replied.  
  
* * *  
  
*Thank God,* Dorothy thought. /I wonder if it was   
Zechs saying Treize's name like that that did it.../  
  
"Colonel Une?" Dorothy said.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"What's the condition of the Star?"  
  
"Mister Treize's ship is barely holding together." A   
pause. "Someone will have to account for that."  
  
"Yes, ma'am," said Dorothy.   
  
* * *  
  
Une lifted Treize carefully in her arms, and placed   
his limp form upon the bed. With a soft look she was   
just as glad he was unable to see, she drew the   
blankets up to his chin. Then she moved to the   
steamer trunk at the foot of the bed. Throwing back   
its lid, she retrieved the items she wanted and set   
them up on the table.  
  
Making the connections for the communications screen   
took only a few moments. With that done, she powered   
up the screen and tapped out the code to place her   
call.  
  
It was the middle of the night back in the city, back   
on shore, but Lady Une did not care. One man was   
responsible for Treize's present condition, and the   
condition of the Star, and that man was going to hear   
about it. Now.  
  
"I will speak to Duke Dermail," she said flatly to   
the young man who took her call. There was not the   
tone of a request in her voice, but rather that of a   
command.  
  
"I'm sorry, the Duke is unavailable-"  
  
"Are you deaf? I said I will speak to Duke Dermail,   
and I mean to speak to him at once."  
  
The screen blanked momentarily, then the Romafeller   
coat of arms appeared. That, in turn, was replaced by   
the sight of His Excellency Duke Dermail, who looked   
very much as if someone had just tossed him out of   
bed to take this call.  
  
"Lady Une," Dermail nodded in greeting.  
  
"Treachery will only find you betrayed in your turn,   
Your Excellency," Une told him. "I wanted to make   
that very clear."  
  
"I'm sorry, Lady Une, but I haven't the foggiest idea   
what you're-"  
  
"Don't. You. Dare."  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"No, I beg yours. Mister Treize has done more for you   
and your organization than any man living- and is   
this how you would repay years of loyal service? By   
giving him this wretched, dishonorable death?"  
  
"You forget yourself, Lady. I won't stand to be   
spoken to in this manner."  
  
"And I," Une replied, "will not stand to see Mister   
Treize treated in this way. The Morning Star was   
damaged, sabotaged and rather badly, I might add, by   
your men. You will see to its repair."  
  
"I certainly will not-"  
  
"Sir," Une said, "I don't believe you have any choice   
in the matter. Either the Star is repaired, made good   
as new or better, or the millions of citizens who   
consider Mister Treize their own personal hero will   
learn how desperate Romafeller was to kill him."  
  
* * *  
  
"She didn't," Dorothy protested to Zechs as they   
hurried towards Dermail's office, and the summons   
they'd received.  
  
"She did," Zechs said, "and I think it was probably   
the only thing that made him come around at all."  
  
"But I don't understand it- repairs for the Star,   
that's all she asked for?"  
  
"For the time being, yes." Zechs paused. "In the   
coming months I suspect we'll find out just how   
desperate your grandfather is to keep the truth from   
coming out..."  
  
It was all Dorothy could do not to laugh.  
  
* * *  
  
"You should not have done that, Lady," Treize said   
quietly.  
  
Une shook her head. "I had to do something, sir. I   
had to find a way to remind him that you are not so   
indispensable as he thinks, and that he could not   
kill you without anyone raising an outcry." She   
smiled ever so slightly. "Besides, I know what this   
ship means to you, and your happiness is more than   
worth Dermail's ire to me."  
  
She spared a glance for the clock. "We should be   
reaching shore soon. Let's get you taken care of,   
sir, and then we'll worry about the schemes of   
Romafeller."  
  
"No, dear Lady. Let us make Romafeller worry about   
the schemes of OZ."  
  
Lady Une threw back her head and laughed.  



End file.
